


Trees

by XphiaDP



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bartholomew the Tree, Child Merlin, Oneshot Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-10-28 05:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XphiaDP/pseuds/XphiaDP
Summary: Merlin had always liked trees. Trees didn't care if you rambled to them about your day or if you got too excited about finding the perfect skipping stone. They didn't care if you came to them in tears. They only listened and shielded you away from the world below in their leafy branches. But most of all, they kept quiet about a lone child's plights and secrets.A series of one-shots that involve Merlin and his tree along with many others, not in chronological order.  They get posted as I come up with them.





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin had always liked trees. Trees didn’t care if you rambled to them about your day or if you got too excited about finding the perfect skipping stone. They didn’t care if you came to them in tears and your words bumbled and bled together. They only listened and shielded you away from the world below in their leafy branches. They were sturdy, constant. But most of all, they kept quiet about a lone child’s plights and secrets.

When he was little, Merlin had found a large oak tree overlooking a small pond just a little ways into the forest outside Ealdor. This tree was his first friend which he promptly named Bartholomew.

Bartholomew was an old tree and grand in the eyes of the young warlock. The light always filtered through the leaves in just a way so that when the wind blew, the pinpricks of sunlight danced in a merry manner. Merlin often danced along, humming a tune unique only to this little performance. The branches were large and comfortable and there were knobs and nicks allowing the child easy access to Bartholomew’s highest branches were the limbs tangled themselves together to form a sort of nest of twigs and leaves. Merlin took shelter in this nest when everything seemed to be too much and he just let the leaves and crickets sing away all his worries.

Bartholomew became Merlin’s safe haven, his home away from home, his constant. If ever there was a time when the teasing of the village children got to be too much, Bartholomew was there to comfort and shield. If ever there was a worry too big to confess to his mother, Bartholomew was there. If ever there was a problem that needed solving, Bartholomew was there to let the boy talk out a solution. Bartholomew was always there and that was why Merlin had decided to entrust his first friend with his biggest secret.

He remembered the day well. It was around the middle of the fall and his magic had begun to act up. It always acted up when Merlin was trying his hardest not to use it. His mother had warned him that the others were getting suspicious and that he couldn’t get caught no matter what. So, he held it all in and it was taking its toll. As he climbed up Bartholomew, his hands were shaking, his skin was pale, and his face was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

The boy had rocked himself back and forth in his nest trying to get the feeling to go away. It was a feverish heat that just built inside him and it was like his own skin was too tight. There was just so much inside. So much needed to get out. He had to release it but that would go against everything that his mother had taught him.

Merlin remembered looking to the trunk of the tree as if that was where Bartholomew’s face laid. He had chewed his lip and tried to summon the words he needed to say multiple times before he was able to form a small broken question.

“Can you keep a secret, Bartholomew?”

The forest had stilled and the wind rustled the leaves. Merlin let out a breath of relief as if his question had been answered audibly.

“I know you won’t tell but I’ve never told anyone so I’m still a little worried but here goes… I have magic. I’ve always had it but Mom says it’s dangerous if other people know so I have to keep it a secret, all hush hush. But if I don’t use it, I get sick and I haven’t used it in the past week and it feels like I’m going to burst. It’s so hot, Bartholomew. It’s too hot. I have to use it but I’m scared to. I’ve never kept it in this long. What if once I let it go, it hurts something. All the people in town say magic is evil and that all it ever does is harm so when I just let it do what it wants will it be evil? Will I be evil? I don’t want to be evil, Bartholomew! I don’t want to!”

It occurred to him that he was crying and the boy stubbornly scrubbed the tears from his face and let out another sniffle.

A wind stirred the colored leaves and a few broke from their branch to drift gently down to land softly on the boy’s head. He looked up surprised.

“A-are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. Another few leaves landed in front of him and the boy smiled and dried the last of his tears with a determined nod. “Okay. I’ll show you.”

He placed his hands on Bartholomew’s trunk and let that heat flow through his fingertips into the wood. A breath escaped his lips as he felt the pressure inside him subside. The uncomfortable warmth drained from his system as the air took on an energy filled buzz. Around him, the branches steadily grew stronger and the leaves regained their green color and new leaves quickly grew to replace the ones that had fallen in the turning of the seasons. Soon enough, Merlin’s little haven in the tree tops was a summer oasis. The child laughed and clapped his hands together, happy to see that his magic had done something good.

“It worked! I did something good!” he cheered wrapping his arms around the trunk of the tree, hugging his friend tightly. “Thank you, Bartholomew.”

He spent the rest of that afternoon letting out the excess energy by making some leaves twirl in a happy wind or weaving some branches together to form small animals. At one point, the boy cupped his hands and with a small flash of his eyes created a few small butterflies which now fluttered happily around the hollow. The air was warm despite the chill of fall hovering just outside the green walls of his safe haven and the sunlight filtered happily through the leaves creating the little light show Merlin loved so much.

Merlin was lulled to sleep there that night, both exhausted by his extended use of magic and calmed by the presence of his silent guardian. He returned the following morning, healthy and happy, to a worried mother who fussed over him and picked the leaves and twigs from his tangled hair as she scolded him for not telling her where he had been. The boy only smiled widely and gave a single sentence as a response.

“Bartholomew protected me.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been surprising coincidence that Arthur and Merlin had happened to stumble into Ealdor after a rather gruesome attack by a rogue sorcerer and his lackeys.

It had all begun with a hunting trip (as it always did, a grumbling voice that sounded annoyingly like his servant piped). Arthur and his father had been on edge for the past couple weeks after a particularly nasty argument over the fate of a servant that had been caught stealing food from the kitchens for a grieving family after their father had died. Arthur managed to keep the servant from any undesirable punishments but couldn’t give the man back his position in the castle staff. Needing to get as far away from the castle and his father as possible, Arthur had dragged his servant towards the borders. The plan was to stay a safe distance away from them so as to not accidentally cause even more tensions between Camelot and Cenred’s kingdom but, as was their luck, plans often ended up failing.

The sorcerer had been fairly weak, only managing small spells that obviously took more effort than they were really worth but those spells had been enough to do a decent amount of damage. Besides, even if the sorcerer himself wasn’t all that much of a threat, the bandits he had managed to round up most certainly were.

They flooded from the trees and two replaced every man Arthur managed to cut down. It was overwhelming. Not to mention, the prince had an inkling that those spells were only increasing the strength and defense of the rouges. He could feel his energy sapping with every blow he had to parry. His head rattled with every block. They couldn’t last much longer. Somewhere in his mind, he hoped that Merlin was doing the proper thing and had hidden himself rather than try to do anything idiotic. A bob of black hair just on the edge of the chaos did little to ease Arthur’s thoughts.

He couldn’t dwell on that for too long though. More men were beginning to bombard him and he didn’t have much time to actually think. Instead, his mind had been reduced to just a stream of orders as if his body was nothing more than a battalion of his own knights. Block. Strike. Dodge. Block. Feint. Parry. Opening! More men fell, more flooded in.

It wasn’t until the stream of spells stopped abruptly that Arthur began to gain some ground. The men around him stumbled from the spell’s backlash, probably from only being half completed before being cut short. Arthur looked to see what had happened to the sorcerer only to find Merlin standing there with a bloodied sword in hand standing grimly above the body. Understanding filled his mind and he finished off the men nearest to him before racing to Merlin. Grabbing his arm, the prince pulled them away from the battle knowing that there were a lot more mercenaries waiting in the trees and this dazed opportunity was their only chance for survival.

The boys stumbled through the forest. Merlin hadn’t even made a jest on Arthur’s retreat which meant he was either that exhausted or that affected by having to kill a sorcerer or even just a fellow human being. Arthur didn’t doubt that it was some mixture of both.

The sun had been setting by the time they stumbled into Merlin’s childhood village. Having recognized the forests around him, Merlin led the way.

The people were quick to welcome their old friend and pervious saviors and Merlin was showered with motherly worry that Arthur could only marvel at. It wasn’t until Hunith turned around and fussed over him in much the same manner that he realized just exactly where Merlin had gotten his never-ending selflessness and kindness.

The two were whisked into Hunith’s home where she spooned out two bowls of porridge and forced the two to eat. Thankfully they hadn’t suffered any injuries besides a few shallow cuts that needed little attention. All they needed was rest and Hunith was already setting up the beds on the floor.

Once allowed to sleep, Arthur was already halfway there while Merlin and his mother conversed in quiet whispers that his sleep addled brain didn’t bother to process. At some point, the door was opened and one of the two slipped off into the night for a bit. The realm of sleep took Arthur before he could see which one.

The following morning, the remainder of the bandits had been found dead just a league away from the village.

Arthur stood perplexed as he crouched by one of the bodies. A few had been completely drained of their strength and Arthur was willing to pass that off as a side effect of that spell from the day before but without a magic expert like Gaius, he couldn’t make any official calls. It was ones that seemed to suffer head wounds that roused the most suspicion. All of those were slumped against trees or rock faces and it was easy to see where the trauma had occurred but the question was how. Magic was the only way to get such force to throw these men like dolls but the sorcerer had been killed so how did this happen?

He stood with a sigh and ran a frustrated hand through his hair deeply wishing that Hunith hadn’t sent Merlin out to retrieve… Was it firewood that she had said? Arthur found he couldn’t quite recall but also found that he didn’t quite care. Whatever it was that his servant was sent to fetch, it was inconveniencing him because Merlin had always been surprisingly good at interpreting strange cases such as these. (Not that he would ever tell Merlin that, of course.) Arthur blamed the sheer amount of time the boy spent around Gaius.

Surveying the scene once more, Arthur noticed an odd trail of dried blood leading away from the clearing and back towards the village. Eyebrows furrowing, Arthur unsheathed his sword and began to follow.

Instead of going straight toward the village like Arthur had originally thought, it skirted around, moving into another section of the forest. This section had a different atmosphere about it. The air was lighter and thrummed as if it was alive. It almost seemed greener in comparison to the woods around it and there was an almost overwhelming sense of calm. Through the trunks Arthur could see the glistening of the sun off water.

Affected by the atmosphere, Arthur found himself lowering his sword and quietly stepping through this grove, lost in the odd peace of it all. He barely noticed that the trail he had been following was no longer on the ground. It wasn’t until a pained hiss shattered the quiet that Arthur was on full alert once more.

The hiss quieted down but there was a rustling and a few grunts as whoever this was tried to keep from making too much noise. The only thing that Arthur couldn’t place was where the noise was coming from. This person wasn’t anywhere in sight and the sounds were too loud and clear to be carried on the breeze.

Something wet and red fell on his cheek.

Surprised, he put a hand to his face only to feel the warm stickiness of an all too familiar thing. He looked up and could barely hide the breath he sucked in between his teeth at the sight.

Way above him, perched in the tangled web of branches sat a person, an injured person no less. The worst part of it all was that he recognized that blasted tousle of raven hair and that infuriating blue neckerchief that was currently stained a disturbing color of red.

Merlin.

Arthur made a move to call out and order the idiot to explain why he was injured and why he was in a godforsaken tree in that state but something stopped him short. Merlin was talking. It wasn’t just quiet reassurances that Arthur had seen many a man speak to themselves when hurt or trying to process some problem. No. Merlin, the odd mystery of a man that he was, was talking to the tree.

“No Bartholomew. (‘What type of name is Bartholomew,’ Arthur thought incredulously.) I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. Just need those bandages…” The voice had dropped into a low murmur as Merlin removed the hand from his side to rifle through a hollow that Arthur was sure was not there two seconds ago. When he straightened, a white roll of bandages lay in his hands.

Merlin tugged off his shirt, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth as he did so. From Arthur’s position on the ground, he couldn’t see if Merlin’s words were actually true. 

The amount of blood there was certainly didn’t help the case. Taking a few breaths beforehand, Merlin began to wrap the bandages tightly around his torso with the ease of someone who had done this way too many times before. Arthur knew that the boy was the physician’s apprentice but still, no man should be able to tend to their own injuries that easily. Through all this, Merlin just kept talking.

“Those bandits showed up quicker than I thought they would. Thankfully they still seemed drained so they weren’t too much of a problem.”

There was a pause and the leaves rustled as a soft wind blew through the branches.

“Alright… Some of them were still a little strong,” Merlin admitted, a begrudging tone in his voice. “And one did manage to do this so I guess they might have been a little bit of a threat.” The wind died down and Merlin nodded as if an agreement had been struck.

There was a small pause as Merlin tied off the bandage and shoved the remaining bandages and his bloodied shirt into the hollow. Out came a spare, this one a sort of cream color that Arthur didn’t feel belonged on his servant.

That thought aside, this moment gave Arthur time to stop and process what he had been hearing. Merlin had been there when the bandits were taken out and from the sounds of it, the gangly boy had helped in the deed. It was completely preposterous to believe that Merlin of all people could do such a thing and besides, there were telltale signs of magic use. There was just no way Merlin would get involved in such a thing. There couldn’t be.

“-thur doesn’t know…” His head snapped up as he realized he missed some of Merlin’s one-sided conversation. “There was absolutely no way that prat would have let me go alone to face these guys and if he did come, I wouldn’t have been able to take them out so easily.”

What? Had he heard that correctly? Merlin had been right about not letting him go alone but what was all this about not being able to “take them out” with Arthur’s help!

Merlin paused once more and let out a sigh. If Arthur squinted, he could barely make out the look of guilt on his friend’s face and even if he couldn’t see the expression clearly, the feeling was very clear in his voice. “Well of course I trust him but… He’s the prince of Camelot. If I tell him, he would have to choose and why would he pick me over his own father and the laws of the land?” Merlin’s voice had dwindled into a quiet murmur, carried down on the wind.

The prince couldn’t help the stab of pain in his heart when Merlin said that Arthur wouldn’t have his back but he didn’t understand what could be so important that it would cause Arthur to have to choose between his friend and father. And why mention the law? The only thing that Arthur could even think of was- Oh.

Arthur’s face paled and the hurt in his chest began to bubble with feelings of hurt and betrayal. Anger rose its head like a beast.

Magic.

It was the only explanation. Merlin had magic. Merlin was a sorcerer. There was no reason for him to lie out here. There were no ears around to hear and the servant had no idea that Arthur was just below him listening to him spout off his treason to a freaking tree. He would tell a tree and not a friend who trusted him with everything.

And that was what hurt the most. It wasn’t the magic. It wasn’t the betrayal or treason. It wasn’t even the fact that Merlin had covered this up for who knows how long. It was the fact that he didn’t trust Arthur enough to share his biggest secret. No, the boy felt so alone and unsure that he turned to a plant to vent his worries to.

Not Arthur. Not Arthur who he had seen at his worse. Not Arthur who trusted him with his own secrets and insecurities. Not Arthur who he rode into battle with and complained to. Not Arthur who he joked with and gave advice to. Not Arthur who trusted him with his life and would gladly do so still (because gosh knows Merlin was too much of a selfless idiot to even considering using his powers for personal gain). Not Arthur.

No, he didn’t trust him with his. But he trusted this blasted Bartholomew tree! His knuckles were white as he clenched them at his side resisting the urge to stab his sword into the very tree that was causing all this anguish.

An outburst from above brought Arthur back to the present.

“It’s his father Bartholomew! They may not see eye to eye sometimes but Arthur still loves him, wants to make him proud. I’m not going to put him in the position to choose; I would never want to do that.” There was a sigh. “Yeah, he’s a bit of a prat sometimes and more than a little arrogant. Not to mention his anger issues! Do you know how many things he throws at me on a daily basis?” Arthur resisted the urge to growl in annoyance, not in the mood for this belittling prattle.

Merlin let out a soft laugh before looking to the light that filtered through the leaves. “But he’s my friend and one day he’ll be a good king. He just needs to survive that long and that’s why I’m here, to protect him. I’ll tell him one day. It might not be today or tomorrow or even in the next year but I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him of all that I’ve done for him and show him all the good he has done for me and the kingdom. For now, he’s not ready for it and neither am I. So, until that day, I’ll be by his side, protecting, advising, leading him in the right direction… because he is my friend and my magic is for him and only him. You understand that right Bartholomew?”

Arthur had almost forgotten that Merlin had been talking to the tree. The anger had died and the pain had dulled. For a moment, there was only warmth and Arthur swore he couldn’t breathe. He wondered how he was worthy to have someone as loyal as the childish man in the tree above him by his side at all times, how a sorcerer was willing to live in a Pendragon’s shadow in order to protect them. It was humbling and moving and just so Merlin that Arthur resisted the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation.   
Merlin had been trying to convince the tree but had instead convinced his sovereign and king, the very person he had been hiding from.

The prince let out a fond sigh and sheathed his sword. Without a word, he turned on his heel and left the grove.

Merlin would tell him when he was ready and Arthur was more than willing to wait.

Up in the tree tops, Merlin looked down at the forest floor in confusion almost positive that he had heard someone there.


	3. Lancelot

Lancelot let out a hearty laugh as Hunith spilled all the mishaps that happened during Merlin’s childhood as the two of them learned how to manage his magic. Overturned cups, sudden levitation, silence spells, almost toppling a tree onto some old man in the village, it was hilarious to look back on despite the panic it must have caused way back when. 

The amusement factor only increased when he took a look at the embarrassed warlock at his side, his face quickly turning the shade of his neckerchief as he tried to bury himself in its folds.

Due to the ban, Merlin had never had to worry about these stories getting out to anybody except Gaius. He had forgotten that his mother probably wouldn’t hesitate to share once she knew someone trustworthy knew his secret. Which was what led to this little fiasco when Lancelot decided to stop by on one of Merlin’s vacations.

Not that Merlin didn’t appreciate it! No, quite the opposite. It was rare to be able to talk about magic and the silly things that could be done with it with anyone besides Gaius and Hunith without worry. But, his appreciation stopped at embarrassing childhood stories.

He finally excused himself to go get firewood they didn’t need just to escape this torture, ignoring the small laughs that followed him as he left.

Lancelot chuckled as he watched Merlin’s retreating form and from the corner of his eye, he could see Hunith doing the same. The laughs quieted after a short while and they were both just left staring at the door.

“Thank you.” Lancelot nodded with a soft smile as Hunith repeated the phrase for the ninth time since he had arrived a few hours ago. “He needs someone who fully knows him. For a while, I was worried. After Will… Well, I was scared that he would never be this open to anyone but Bartholomew.”

Lancelot started at the name. Merlin had told him of Will and what had happened all those years ago but Bartholomew was a new name. Never once had Merlin mentioned him.

“He hasn’t told you about Bartholomew, has he?” Hunith smiled softly, letting out a breathy laugh. “I would expect so; that boy guards Bartholomew with everything he has. Bartholomew is Merlin’s closest confident here in Ealdor; it’s been that way since he was only a child. I’m pretty sure he knows much more about what Merlin did with his magic than I do just because that child can’t keep more than one secret at a time.”

The laugh they shared was tinged with a sad acceptance. Both knew what his one secret had to be.

“What’s Bartholomew like?” Lancelot couldn’t help the question. Bartholomew seemed like such an important person in Merlin’s life and he was curious as to why Merlin would never have mentioned him even in passing.

“Tall,” Hunith began, eyes sparkling with a mischievous light that he had often seen in Merlin’s. “Steadfast, a force of nature really, but he’s a good listener and most times, that’s all he really needs to be.”

The knight sat in silence for a few moments just taking it all in, trying to get a mental image of this Bartholomew. No picture seemed particularly right.

Seeing his puzzled face, Hunith nodded towards the door. “Oh just go out and ask if you can meet him. I’m sure Merlin would actually like to introduce the two of you. I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.” With that she stood and turned away, giving him no room to say anything more.

That was another similarity between the two. Lancelot couldn’t count the number of times Merlin gave him no room to argue or say anything by turning away to go about his work.

With that small thought in mind, he sought off for the warlock. The search lasted all of five minutes as Merlin came trotting back with an armful of firewood.

“Has she finally stopped?”

Lancelot laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder at the question. “Don’t worry. I think the worst of its over Merlin.”

The servant let out a relieved sigh as he dropped the wood into a pile by the door. “Oh thank goodness. I thought it would never end!” he groaned. “I didn’t even know I did half the things she talked about!”

Merlin ranted for a few moments, trying to regain what little pride he had left after having his childish mistakes laid out, before Lancelot finally popped the question. “Who’s Bartholomew?”

The question stilled Merlin and he averted his eyes. “She told you about him too?” This question was quieter though there was no hurt in his voice. Lancelot nodded and Merlin sighed, tugging a bit on his neckerchief.

“I’ll introduce you two then. I think he’ll like to meet you,” Merlin decided after a little mental debate.

~(~)~

Lancelot wasn’t so sure what he was expecting Bartholomew to be like but he certainly wasn’t expecting him to not even be a person. Suddenly, Hunith’s description made complete sense.

Merlin stood by the large oak apprehensively, rocking on his heels, waiting for Lancelot to say something.

Lancelot only stepped forward and placed a hand on the trunk. The atmosphere near the tree was safe and comforting. He could feel the undercurrent of magic rippling below the bark, playful and mischievous yet ancient and wise. It felt like Merlin and everything he had brought to the walls of Camelot.

Smiling, he looked to the leaves overhead.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Bartholomew. Thank you for all that you’ve done for Merlin.”


	4. Modern Day

Arthur grumbled quietly as he stormed through the woods, hefting a bag on his shoulder. Honestly, it was his life and his choice so his father could just kindly butt out of it. He didn’t want to be the next CEO of Penn Industries, the rightful heir to the Pendragon name and all that other pretentious bull. It wasn’t him and it wasn’t something he wanted to do. That didn’t mean he hadn’t accepted that it was going to happen anyways, but his father could have at least let him have this _one _thing.

He let a long slow sigh and glanced at his bag, the torn pages of his manuscript peeking out from the depths. He’d almost been done with it too…

He eventually reached a small grove, one he stumbled across when he was just a boy. The place seemed trapped in a perpetual summer and it all seemed to stem from this one ancient oak that stood at the center of the grove. The place had felt familiar to him even back then and now, years later, it was his own little safe haven, the only place his father didn’t know of.

He set the bag down and braced his back against that mighty tree and just let the atmosphere wash over him, allowing it to steal away his anger and replace it with a comforting calm. Once he felt like he could work without wanting to throw something, he pulled out the pieces of his manuscript and some tape. Sure, trying to piece paper back together in the middle of the woods probably wasn’t the best idea but it was the best he had. Besides, it was the only place he knew his father wouldn’t be able to rip his passion project to pieces again.

The tale was one he’d dreamt up as a boy, a classic of knights and magic and quests. He’d tired to ignore it as all he’d wanted to do back then was make his father proud. However, the story refused to leave his mind so he eventually began to pour it onto pages of an old journal which turned to another which turned to scenes on any scrap of paper he could find. He found that once he started writing it down, he couldn’t stop and after a while, he didn’t want it to. The tale was a release and it resonated with a part of him he hadn’t entirely sure was there before.

Arthur sighed and snapped a piece of tape loose as he pieced together a page. He’d finally gotten it all down in one place too…

A small stick landed beside him and he looked up just in time to hear a voice float down from the treetops.

“Ow! What was that for, Bartholomew?”

There was a person. In the tree. Arthur’d never seen anyone else even come close to this small grove let alone climb the ancient oak. Even he’d sensed something about the tree that kept younger him from climbing it. Yet there he was, a random bloke perched up closer to the top as if there was nothing wrong with it.

Arthur stood and backed up a few steps, head craned and eyes shielded with a hand to try and get a better look at the man above. He couldn’t get much past the sun glare. The person was lanky and by the sounds of his voice, young, probably around Arthur’s own age.

“Well hello there!” he eventually called up, more than a little curious to see what type of person sat amongst the branches like a bird.

The figure stiffened at the sudden address and seemed to look around. “Wha-aguh!”

Arthur flinched as their movement offset the precarious balance that kept them in the tree, and they came tumbling to the ground.

He opened his eyes as a heavy thud sounded followed by a low groan of pain.

A man lay sprawled out on the floor (half on top of his already ruined manuscript, part of Arthur’s brain noted with dismay) but as far as he could tell, he was uninjured minus a leaf or twig caught on ebony colored hair or worn clothing despite having fallen from a rather great height.

He wore dark jeans and a long sleeve blue shirt and an odd triangular scarf around his neck that nagged at the back of Arthur’s mind in a baffling manner. The man was barefoot and casting his eyes about the grove again, Arthur noticed a pair of brown boots and a brown jacket nestled against the trunk of the tree on the opposite side he’d been working.

The man groaned again, and Arthur snapped back to reality as he rushed forward to offer a hand to the stranger. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

The man shook his head and reached out to take the hand. “No, that was on me. I should’ve been more careful,” he trailed off as he pulled himself to his feet and looked up. Blue met blue and Arthur blinked at a sudden wave of familiarity. The other man must have felt it too because his eyes widened and his voice pitched oddly, “Arthur?”

And then it was suddenly very hard to look this man in the eye. Arthur let go of his hand and took a step back just to put a little space between him and the stranger. “Yeah. That’s my name. Have we met before?” he said quickly in a rush that was so unlike anything he’d ever been taught to speak like when encountering someone new. His father would have his hind for that introduction.

The man studied him before backing up as well, back lightly touching the bark of the tree. “Uh, no. No, I don’t think we have. Sorry. I just-” A paper crunched under his foot and he looked down. “What…?”

“No! Those are mine. Please do not look at them,” Arthur spoke quickly as eyes widened and a sharp series of curses flashed through his mind and he dashed forward to start collecting the scraps. The man unfortunately began to do the same, eyes flickering over the meticulous writing.

“You wrote this?” The question came quiet and almost reverent as the man stared at one of the pages he held.

Arthur snatched it out of his hand and quickly gathered up the last of the pages, holding them somewhat protectively to his chest. “No,” he denied before realizing it was a very obvious lie. “Well, yes. They’re nothing serious. Just something to pass the time. They’re not even that good,” he rambled.

The man shook his head and lowered himself to the ground with a smile. “What I read sounded great though it seems it’s gone through a pretty rough time.” He located the tape Arthur had left laying around and held it up. “How ‘bout you tell me about it while I help you fix it up? I’ll even tell you some stories of my own.”

There was something about him, the way his smile quirked, the mischievous light in his eyes, Arthur didn’t know what it was, but it had him sitting down and tentatively placing the manuscript back down. Maybe it was the warm comforting aura of the forest, maybe it was the openness of the stranger, or maybe it was even Arthur’s own need to have someone listen, that he opened his mouth and began to speak.

~(~)~

Arthur didn’t know how long they’d been talking, sharing tape and trading pieces of pages until there was nothing left and even then, still continuing on, but he also found that for once, he didn’t really care.

This stranger was most certainly the oddest person he’d ever met. He spoke of how he’d also discovered this haven when he was a child and took to hiding in the trees whenever he wanted to get away from the other kids in the town. He’d named it Bartholomew which Arthur immediately mocked. (A small twig fell dangerously close to his head from the treetops and he’d quickly retracted the statement wondering if it was possible for a tree to be offended.) Apparently, the man visited the area quite a lot to just sit up in the canopy and think and Arthur wondered if they’d ever been there at the same time and just never realized.

In return, Arthur told him of his story and how his father disapproved of his son’s hobby. He told him how the business life was something he was raised to do and how he wasn’t sure if he was even the right person to pass on the company to, to which the man immediately refuted saying that Arthur was an amazing leader and that if he wasn’t worried that it would be clear he wasn’t the right person. The praise made him unreasonably happy though he managed to hide it under a quirked eyebrow.

And so, it went on, chatting and sharing things that Arthur never dreamed he’d tell anybody let alone someone he just met after they fell out of a godforsaken tree of all things.

Eventually, an evening chill settled into the air and the man looked up at the darkening sky. He sighed and tugged on his boots and jacket. “Well, it’s been nice, Arthur, but I should probably get going.” He stood and was walking before Arthur even had a chance to say anything else.

Arthur blinked at the sudden shift and made a move to follow the man, maybe even just get his name, before something caught his eye.

There, at the base of the tree where the stranger was sitting not moments before, was a book and like none he had ever seen. The cover was leather bound, a sigil of a dragon burned into the cover and when he picked it up, he found the pages were a thick parchment. What struck him most of all were the words.

They were his.

They were the very same words that he and the stranger had just spent hours piecing together and getting right. All of them. Printed neatly and properly on the pages of a leather-bound book with a familiar sigil and his manuscript was nowhere in sight.

He… He didn’t understand. How could this be? He’d never written on parchment before and heaven knows that the pages they’d been working on weren’t these. The flimsy copy paper and tape were nowhere to be found. So this must be his but it wasn’t because he’d never seen anything like it before. It made absolutely no sense.

Until it did.

Arthur took off into the trees, book clutched tightly in his hands. Where was he? It hadn’t been long? He couldn’t have gotten very far.

There! Just a small ways ahead, he spotted a flash of red and blue and black.

He paused as Arthur slowed to a stop behind him, breathing heavy. He turned, eyes curious and maybe just a little hesitant.

Arthur regained his breath and straightened, fixing the other in a small glare.

“What was said here is to be told to no one, is that clear? I can’t have the media or worse my father getting wind of what I’ve told you today,” Arthur demanded, voice stern and everything he used on his employees.

“Uh, yeah,” was the confused response, “I figured that you’d-”

Arthur cut him off. “Because you already have such a great way of ruining my reputation, _Mer_lin,” he’d finished, and he smirked as his old friend’s face froze into open shock, eyes wide and jaw ever so slightly slack. 

There were several different emotions flickering across the warlock’s face and Arthur felt mildly proud that he was able to read every one. There was the obvious shock but then there was hope and maybe even a little hesitation. Arthur couldn’t even imagine how long he must have been waiting for this moment.

Eventually, the open expression was stifled by a glare even though his eyes sparked with joy. “About time you remembered, you prat,” Merlin huffed with a roll of his eyes and Arthur cuffed lightly over the back of his head before swinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders.

_I think I’ve remembered all this time,_ he thought to himself as he led the both of them out of the woods, his book tucked under one arm.

~(~)~

Almost six months later, Myth and Magic hit the shelves. A week after that, it classified as a best seller.


End file.
